Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 551 Arrival at the Giant Camp

Old Avery explored a few more directions.

Do you have many friends on the mainland?

Geralt raised an eyelid, his tone becoming impatient: "We're not really friends, just had drinks a few times."

"What are those old guys up to these days?"

"You're asking me? Do I fucking look like their secretary?"

Old Avery's eye twitched; this man had absolutely no dignity.

He continued, "You came to Northern Europe alone?"

"No," Geralt scoffed, "a thousand people came in total."

Old Avery paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and seeing that the other party was losing patience, he knew that asking any more questions might get him beaten, and he didn't want to be beaten.

"One last question: how do you plan to contact the Titans?"

Geralt leaped off the rock and landed on the ground, brushed the dust off his trousers, and walked a few steps away from old Avery.

"You don't need to worry about that," he grinned at old Avery, his eyes gleaming. "Go back and tell your boss I've arrived at the Giants' place first. If he has any objections, let him handle it himself."

Old Avery's eyes and mouth twitched.

What does that mean? Does he not know who my boss is? Or does he know but say it on purpose? A pointless provocation?

Is there a trap here? Or are they just messing with me? Is Dumbledore nearby?

Various thoughts swirled in his mind, finally settling on one point: not a single word this person said could be completely believed, but not a single word could be completely disregarded either.

He glanced at Geralt one last time, nodded, said no more, and turned to leave.

Two masked men followed him, took a detour, and headed towards the cliff face. They pulled the young man down from the crater. One of them held his arm and the other his leg. Blood was still seeping from the young man's right shoulder. His groans had subsided considerably; he was in so much pain that he was almost too weak to move.

With a few muffled thuds, the phantom shifted, and the area behind the corner of the rock wall was empty. There was no one there, only the half-meter-deep crater on the rock wall emitting the last wisp of white smoke, and a dark red bloodstain on the rock surface below the crater.

The wind started blowing again, coming from deep within the canyon, skimming the ground and scraping over the gravel.

Geralt stood still, flexed the fingers of his right hand, blew on them, and turned to look at Fabian and Gideon.

Fabian looked incredibly excited, his mouth agape, his eyes shining brightly, filled with the exhilaration of just now—a feeling he would remember for a lifetime—and he had a lot to say.

Gideon's expression was more composed as he stared at Geralt's face. Geralt, however, was open and uninhibited, allowing him to look at him.

After staring at it for a short while, Gideon slightly pursed his lips and looked away.

Geralt gestured with his chin toward them: "Let's go."

Fabian caught up in a few steps, draping his arm over Geralt's shoulder, and finally couldn't hold back any longer: "That was so cool! What was that move? How did you do it? You just flicked your finger and he flew off!"

Geralt tilted his head. "Want to learn?"

Fabian's eyes lit up, and he nodded his head several times. Gideon also turned his head.

Geralt grinned: "How's that trick I taught you last time about filling the Ironclad Charm with air coming along?"

Fabian's mind went blank, and he looked a little embarrassed. He glanced at Gideon, who was walking a little further away and had looked away, pretending to be looking at the scenery.

Fabian turned back, his voice much softer and less confident: "Still...thinking about it."

"Let's figure that out first," Geralt said casually, then continued walking.

Fabian's hand slid off his shoulder and he walked beside him, muttering to himself. Gideon quickly followed.

The three continued deeper into the canyon, and neither of the brothers mentioned wanting to learn the trick they had just learned.

Actually, it can be taught if you want to. That crimson ray of light is ultimately just magic control and a variation of a spell; there's nothing to hide.

But these two guys hadn't even figured out how to compress air with the Ironclad Charm. In his opinion, their magic control was still stuck at the beginner level, so teaching them would be pointless since they wouldn't be able to use it. He'd wait until they mastered the basics before trying to teach them anything else.

After walking for about a kilometer further, the road surface became a harder, hardened surface, and the large rocks around had either been moved away or smashed.

The landscape suddenly changed, and the view opened up to a wide-open space in front of us, completely bare and empty, stretching from one end of the canyon to the bottom of the mountain, as if it had been specially leveled.

From this line onward, all traces of life disappear; there are no footprints, no droppings, no sounds, and not even moss grows.

There was a new smell in the air, not unpleasant, but strange. The mineral smell was stronger, mixed with a hint of animal scent and the burnt smell of stones after being burned at high temperatures.

Fabian sniffed, his face scrunching up. "What's that smell?"

Gideon frowned, his hand already touching the wand.

Geralt noticed it too; not only the scent, but the magic had also changed.

A low, magical energy permeated the ground and air beneath my feet. It was low in frequency, wide in amplitude, and covered the entire open area. It also had a very clear exclusivity.

All animals and magical creatures can sense the meaning of their environment. There are things here that are much bigger and stronger than you. If you don't want to die, get out of here.

The giant's territory marker, its scent infused with magic.

The giant used his magical bodily fluids mixed with mineral powder to mark the boundaries of his territory on the stones and ground.

Humans can barely detect the scent, but what truly matters is the magical signal embedded within the scent. To animals and magical creatures, this signal is strong and clear enough.

So there was nothing within the territory; stone horned beasts, reindeer, and ice dragons all kept their distance, and even plants didn't grow there.

A territorial defense system built on biological instincts, without runes or spells, without any magical techniques, purely biochemical and magical markings, crude, primitive, but effective.

Geralt didn't go any further; just inside was the giant's house.

He looked at the mountain walls on both sides; they were steep, but not completely vertical, with some rocky outcrops and protrusions where one could get a foothold.

"Let's go up and take a look."

After saying that, he disappeared and reappeared on a wide rock platform on the left side of the mountain wall.

Two more soft sounds rang out, and the two brothers appeared beside them.

The altitude here is seven or eight hundred meters higher than the valley floor. The wind is much stronger and the temperature is much lower. The wind makes the robes flutter and rustle.

The rock platform is about ten square meters in size, and its surface is relatively flat due to weathering. It is not too crowded for three people to stand on it.

Fabian stood on the edge and looked down. Below was a near-vertical rock wall, and the valley floor was hundreds of meters below.

He pulled his feet back a little, leaned forward, and braced his hands on the rocks at the edge of the cliff.

Gideon stood beside him, one hand on the protruding rock face, his gaze fixed ahead.

My field of vision has been completely opened up.

Somewhere ahead, the canyon split open into a wide valley, and the mountains that had been pressing against each other on both sides suddenly parted.

In the middle, a valley spanning five or six kilometers in circumference is exposed, surrounded by mountain ridges on all sides, with snow-capped peaks in the distance. The giant's camp is located in this wide valley.

Geralt crouched at the very front of the rock platform, his amber pupils fixed on the ground below.

The valley was filled with stone buildings, houses built of granite blocks, the blocks cut very roughly with uneven edges, but joined together tightly, the gaps filled with gravel and soil.

Each building is very large, with doors that are over ten meters high and walls that appear to be over one meter thick.

The buildings weren't just randomly placed; there was a central building that was the largest, twice as tall as the surrounding ones.

There are two rough stone pillars at the entrance, with something carved on their surfaces. From this distance, the specific patterns are not clear, but the carvings can be seen reflecting the sunlight.

Surrounding this large building, dozens of stone houses of varying sizes are scattered throughout the valley, connected by trodden paths.

There was a smoke rising from an area on the east side, and the chimney of the stone furnace was as thick as a water tower. The rhythmic clanging of metal could be faintly heard, which was probably the forging area.

There was a row of shorter and longer buildings on the west side, with something piled up in front of the entrance, probably a storage area.

There are numerous giant footprints at the base of the mountain wall to the north, leading to a wide path, which should be the entrance to the hunting grounds.

What remains should be the residential area, with stone houses scattered throughout the area, all similar in style, with open spaces in front of the doors, and some of these spaces even have stone benches.

From a distance, the entire campsite appears as a mixture of grayish-white stones and dark brown soil, rough, heavy, and possessing a primal sense of power.

Lacking any refinement or sophistication, yet sturdy and solid enough, each building is squarely anchored to the ground, blending seamlessly with the mountain ridge and rock face.

The style is rugged, but it's rugged in a well-organized way, and it looks like a place that has been carefully managed for a long time.

Giants were walking in the valley. From this height, their movement was not fast, but each step they took covered a great distance.

One of them was carrying a reindeer back home. The whole reindeer was slung over his shoulder, and in his hand it looked about the same as a human carrying a rabbit.

Several people were sitting on stone benches in front of the stone house, their heads down, working on something, but it was impossible to see exactly what it was.

There were also some giants wearing armor standing on several high points at the edge of the camp; they were probably sentries.

Only a portion of the Titans wore armor; those on guard duty wore it, while most who returned from the hunting grounds did not. The other Titans mostly wore animal hides or coarse cloth.

There are clear and identifiable hierarchical differences: those wearing armor are warriors, while those not wearing armor are ordinary members.

This is a race sustained by wisdom. Through hundreds of years of natural selection and centuries of being driven away by wizards, those who survived were either stupid enough or smart enough.

These are the smartest members of the entire population right now.

They have architecture, functional zoning, road planning, forging capabilities, and can forge iron, make armor, and manufacture tools and weapons.

They have a hierarchy, a division of labor, the ability to organize collective hunting, a concept of territory management, and a defense system based on scent marking.

The inscriptions on the stone pillars of the central building are likely a condensation of their memories over thousands of years, a history preserved by physical means in an oral legal society.

The way an intelligent species maintains itself and its aesthetic sense, from managing the food chain to planning its living space, all point to one thing: this species lives with its brain.

Fists are useful, but they're not the most important thing.

From a human perspective, this is roughly equivalent to a city-state in the late Bronze Age, with territory, population, military power, a legal system, cultural heritage, and foreign relations.

The value of this tribe goes far beyond whether or not it takes sides.

A gust of wind blew up from the valley floor, carrying the distinctive scent of the giants' territory.

At the entrance of the largest stone house in the center, a giant in armor stood up and tilted his head towards the mountain wall.

Geralt shrank back, and Fabian followed suit: "He saw us?"

Geralt didn't reply, nor did Gideon; the three of them lay motionless on the edge of the rocky platform.

The giant below stared at the top for a while, then turned back.

Geralt rolled over and lay on his back on the rock platform. The sky above him was high, with thin clouds. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

The clouds in the distance are thickening, and the sky is getting darker than before.